Whenever Imogen Thomas first met the married footballer, she probably had something else on her mind. Eight months later and their brief relationship has developed from kiss-and-tell to a legal battle and now into a constitutional crisis – in which the player in question has been named as Ryan Giggs in parliament, in defiance of high court judges.

Yet, even now, it is not certain the full story will ever emerge because of the judges' determination to protect the identity of the Manchester United player at the centre of the media storm.

It was at 6.30pm on Monday night that Mr Justice Tugendhat ruled – unexpectedly – that the injunction preventing the naming of the player was still valid even though the media had reported that he had been named by MP John Hemming in the Commons.

The results were immediate.

One tabloid reporter at the high court waiting for the verdict immediately rang the newsroom to tell them to back off from the player's doorstep. Tugendhat had said that "this is not about secrecy this is about intrusion" – in effect saying, while the player had been named in one context, developing the story by trying to obtain information from his friends, family or from Imogen Thomas was still not allowed.

Explaining his argument, the judge told the court: "If it is a government secret, once the information is out there is nothing left to protect. But with personal information, once you taunt someone the more distressing it becomes."

He added that even if the level of protection now offered was limited, it was still potentially worthwhile: "If a court can stop one person or five people [from harassing the player] – not 50,000 – is there not something to be achieved?"

It is a battle that has become an extraordinary exercise in will from judges who believe that, whatever mistakes the footballer may have made, he is largely the victim in the saga, which dates back to three admitted meetings with Imogen Thomas in September, November and December of last year.

By April, the Sun had become aware of Thomas and her potential story but, after publishing a short report identifying her as somebody who had an alleged relationship with an unnamed player, the player's legal team won an injunction preventing further disclosure of his identity.

It was the player's misfortune to obtain the injunction at just the point when the debate about the use of gagging orders by celebrities was beginning to take off. Several cases have been in the spotlight at various times, including TV presenter Andrew Marr and most notably Sir Fred Goodwin, the former RBS chief executive, who – until last week – had been able to prevent reporting of an alleged affair with a senior colleague.

However, the footballer's case remained at the centre of the injunction furore, partly because of his fame but principally because of Imogen Thomas's efforts to keep it alive.

The story about the use of privacy injunctions badly needed a human face, and an attractive 28-year-old provided it, giving an interview with ITV's This Morning at the end of April. "I know what I did was wrong but he's the one with a wife and children – he's the cheater. Now my life is in pieces. These injunctions only seem to exist to look after high-profile people. This has ruined my life."

Behind Thomas lay the Sun, with whom she became increasingly closely aligned. Both the newspaper and Thomas were subject to the same gagging order. Thomas was increasingly making headway with arguments that suggested that there was no law available to protect her because she could not afford the cost of an injunction, while the Sun chose to go back to the court last week, arguing she had the right to tell her story under article 10 of the Human Rights Act which covers free speech and self-expression.

With Thomas and the newspaper heading back into court to challenge the injunction, it fell to Mr Justice Eady to turn the tables again. He chose to release a trenchantly-worded judgment, explaining why had made the initial ruling to keep the identity of the footballer secret, in which he concluded there was "ample reason not to trust" the young woman.

The judge noted that evidence before the court on 14 April "appeared strongly to suggest that the claimant [the anonymous footballer] was being blackmailed" – because according to the footballer's evidence she had asked him for £50,000 and later £100,000 for her silence.

Eady did not reach a final conclusion on the point – and Thomas denies the blackmail allegation – but the judge made his sympathies clear as he noted also that there was no "public interest" in revealing the player's name.

Nevertheless, despite the intensity of the verdict, the case refused to die.

It got a new lease of life after it emerged on Friday that the player's lawyers Schillings were trying to win a court order forcing Twitter to erase tweets that named the player and to hand over what information it had about anonymous users who had published his name on the site.

That prompted thousands to name the player over the weekend in a moment of defiance that some Twitter users likened to the "I am Spartacus" moment in the epic film of the Greek slave turned hero.